


Fish and let Fly

by ineffablesheep



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Extended Scene, Fish, Flying motor scooters, Gen, The fish scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablesheep/pseuds/ineffablesheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s the CIA doing investigating a traffic jam in London?” Bond asked as a police officer ran past them, screaming at the lobster on his head.<br/>“Not sure.” Felix Leiter answered cheerfully. “Probably something to do with the rain of fish or flaming vintage car that flew over the magical barrier that no one else can cross.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fish and let Fly

The closer James Bond got to the crowd, the more fish there were. The double-oh agent sauntered through the lines of parked cars towards the chaos of the M40-M25 junction. The day was cool and the sky the matching shade of grey as Bond’s suit.

 

One cold, wet, and exasperated police officer began the second run through of his bizarre story just as Bond approached. As he listened, he scanned the faces of the gathered crowd. Bomb disposal crew stood around their great armoured truck in silence, patience normally used to keep them alive being put to good use. Women and men in army uniform were on patrol. Special Forces and MI5 spoke quietly into their cuffs or touching their ears. Bond huffed. Amateurs, he thought. Bond could see they were distracted, focusing not on their guns but on the seafood buffet that littered the motorway instead. Dotted about the place was an ever increasing number of police officers. Some made Bond watched as some made the effort to calm the backlogged traffic but most listened to their colleague in sceptical silence. The only person who looked remotely happy was a man who’d set up a hot dog stand and was making a fortune.

 

Bond shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark grey coat and set off to find his elusive MI5 contact.

 

“James!” An American voice twanged behind him. The English agent looked around and smiled. At the edge of the crowd stood a man in casual clothes, battered black jacket hiding the holster beneath.  
“Felix.” Bond stepped over a small shark and headed to join the American agent. The pair shook hands and settled in to watch.  
“What’s the CIA doing investigating a traffic jam in London?” Bond asked as a police officer ran past them, screaming at the lobster on his head.  
“Not sure.” Felix Leiter answered cheerfully. “Probably something to do with the rain of fish or flaming vintage car that flew over the magical barrier that no one else can cross.” He kicked away a particularly brave cod as Bond laughed. He’d missed Felix’s sense of humour.  
“I must say, it’s not my normal briefing either.”  
“What is MI6 doing here anyway?” Bond pulled a face.  
“MI5 is in over their heads." As per normal sits on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t figure out what half the people, including MI5 and himself, were doing here. There was no bomb, no terrorist, just fish and angry traffic.

 

He tuned back in when an army technician interrupted the police officer’s story.  
“Impossible. The temperature above the M25 is somewhere in excess of 700oC or negative 140oC.” She said as she waved her arm at the data on her laptop screen. After the moment it took to convert the numbers in his head, the American agent whistled, impressed. Bond ignored him in favour of surreptitiously switching on his earpiece.  
“Q, are you getting this?” He murmured. A keyboard tapped away in his ear and he could imagine Q back at MI6, hunting through CCTV footage as his as his obedient minions scurried about.  
“Yes Double-Oh-Seven. We’re getting the same readings. The equipment is in perfect working order though.” The younger man’s voice comes through calmly. Being in charge of double-oh agents on a regular basis meant that little could faze MI6’s quartermaster. Even, it seemed, an apocalyptic rain of fish.  
“How do you feel? Hot, Cold?” Bond blinked and turned his attention to the signals his body was sending him. It was hot, so hot he could feel the tops of his ears beginning to blister. Yet it was just as cold and he pulled his coat tighter around himself.  
“Both?”  
“Both? What do you mean, Bond?”  
“I mean, it’s boiling and freezing. The equipment isn’t faulty, Q.”  
“Of course it isn’t, I made it. You on the other hand…” Q’s curiosity appeased, Bond returned his focus to Felix and the crowd.  
“It burst into flames! It just kept going!” The police officer repeated desperately, throwing his hands in the air.  
“Perhaps Q branch’s next project should be a fire proof car.” Felix suggested. Bond grinned.  
“They’ll have one hidden away somewhere...” Bond trailed off as the sound of thousands of angry glass harmonicas approached. The high pitched keening quickly built into until it was uncomfortably loud. Glass windows in the parked cars began to vibrate.  
VVVRREEEOOOOMMMM  
Bond grabbed Felix and pulled him down behind the shielding bulk of a police car as a blue fireball roared overhead. Windows shattered and spilt glass everywhere down the motorway. From his crouch, Bond stared up at the projectile.  
“Is that a… Q?” In his ear, the quartermaster sounded confused, a rare event.  
“Yes James, I’m seeing it.”

 

All work in Q Branch ground to a halt as a middle aged woman and a mackintosh clad man graced the main screen bank. They sailed over the motorway junction on a little white motor scooter wrapped in flames. The agents on the ground were too far below to see but Q’s magnified video feeds played out the woman’s gleeful excitement.  
“Gerrronimmoooooo!”

 

After a moment, Bond stood and brushed the glass and dust off himself. Felix did the same, both men staring after the scooter.  
“Well.”  
“Bugger this, drink?” Bond asked his friend.  
“God yes.” Came Felix’s reply. Around them emergency services stood in shocked silence. People in their cars had finally gotten over the shock and had begun screaming. The hotdog salesman would later be found hiding in his cart, after a certain police officer stopped gleefully dancing on top of it. Ignoring the voice of Q in his ear, Bond left with Felix in tow, the fish covered mess forgotten in favour of a strong whiskey.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Characters not mine  
> After going on a Bond binge, I reread Good Omens and noticed that this scene mentioned the presence of MI6 ad the CIA in the crowd. How could I not write this?


End file.
